#j. l. smith

[eunoiareview]

Doll

Hand-painted face like a Parisian mime, she sits on the shelf crumpled like a worn dress after a party gone wrong. Her make-up still perfect— because that’s what dolls are good for— but the hair is dusty from not seeing the sun, not breathing the free air, for many years.

Once, so perfect to the touch, her owner’s hands tremble now when they hold her.

Once, she thought the doll was the world, the…

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[eunoiareview]

Repair

Your arm sliced the counter with precision. Two white cups fell upon your command, breaking into pieces, on the beige laminate floor.

Your eyes paid no mind to them once they hit the floor, useless, collateral damage in our civil war, bodies to walk over.

Shock and awe ends in silence, only scrapes of ceramic, pieces of flesh cutting each other, as you dump them into the trash bag.

Without…

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